


Mourning

by Alyss_Baskerville



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Character Death, Companions, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Platonic Life Partners, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:23:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyss_Baskerville/pseuds/Alyss_Baskerville
Summary: You're dying, and Sebastian watches over you.





	Mourning

You lay in the straw bed, breathing labored and painful as you struggled to draw in enough oxygen to go on a little longer, just a little longer. You prayed to God for just a few more minutes left in this world. Another burst of pain seized your body, and your beautiful face twisted into a grimace that clearly screamed displeasure.

Sitting by your bedside and staring at you with unreadable crimson eyes was your...you weren't entirely sure what to consider him. You two were just supposed to be mere entertainment for each other, a way to stave off the agonizing boredom that came with timelessness, but you couldn't help it - your feelings had developed into something more. It was not just you who'd grown...fond...of him; you were aware that he too had grown fond of you.

Perhaps in the type of way an employer could be fond of a helpful worker. 

Neither of you had set names - he'd requested that you call him 'Sebastian' for simplicity's sake, and you, you'd requested that he call you '[Name]' for the same purpose. Your true titles - your true names - were both unknown to each other, but it wasn't like you minded. True names were only to be shared between the most intimate of companions, the one that you cared for most - and you and Sebastian most certainly were not in that kind . of relationship. 

As you gazed at his blank expression, betraying neither sadness nor anguish, you could not help the few tears that trickled from your eyes, down your cheeks, and onto the pillow. Confusion briefly flashed in Sebastian's bloody-red hues, but the emotion was so temporary that you almost thought you'd imagined it. 

"Why do you cry?" Sebastian questioned. "Are you regretting your foolishness in wasting the last remaining century of your life by my side?" the words were spoken with what you perceived as mocking, an amusement at the weakness you were making vulnerable to him, in contrast to your usual witty and sarcastic attitude towards him. 

You smiled wryly, equally entertained yet saddened at the thought. "That's not it," you assured him. 

"So like you," replied the demon, "to have such little care about being precious to another being. You are well aware of the boundaries of our feelings for each other. We agreed to be tools to use at each others' disposal, and to me, you are nothing more than that - yet, I am the truest companion that you have ever had. Does that not bother you in the slightest, if you are frank?" 

"No," you replied easily, giving him a perplexed but slightly tickled look. You weren't lying - the fact that the closest thing to a friend you'd ever had saw you as nothing but a tool did not irk you one bit. You were a witch, after all - it was only to be expected. No, what really - to your own surprise - upset you, was the fact of who it was. You did not like the knowledge that Sebastian thought of you as but a plaything. Had it been anyone else, you would not have cared in the least, but Sebastian _made_ you care. 

"Then what are those tears meant for? Are you afraid of death?" the demon tried again. It amused you to no end that, as long as you two had been traveling the earth together, he still failed to completely understand you. Then again, the same could be said for you. The demon would remain an everlasting puzzlement to you, and you were honestly glad for that.

At the same time, the two of you felt like one and the same. Only he was able to remotely wrap his head around the enigma that was the witch he called '[Name]', and only you were able to come close to understanding him. You were sure that it was the reason that the two of you were able to tolerate each other, as opposed to practically all other relations between demons and witches. 

"That's not it, either," you told him.

Sebastian fell silent, not attempting to try for another guess, but you could tell that he was curious. He genuinely wanted to know the cause of your sorrow, but, you supposed, his pride prevented him from simply acting rational and inquiring it of you.

_...Fool._

You pondered whether or not to tell him. He would probably chuckle at the sentiment behind your tears - demons understood no emotion, or so he continued to tell you, time and time again. Considering the manner in which he could remorselessly tear apart entire lives, though, you supposed that he wasn't lying. 

But what did it matter? 

You were about to die, anyway. Regardless of if he scorned you for your reasons, you would never face him, or talk to him, again. He might mock you for being weak after your death, but by then, you would have ceased to exist, as all witches did after they died. It would affect you not. 

So, you mused, why not grant the 'wish' of the closest thing to a friend you'd ever had in your long life?

"Sebastian," you spoke, and he raised his head at your voice, eyes meeting yours. It was one of the few times, perhaps the _only_ time, that you had spoken his name without a hint of taunting. "I worry for you."

He blanched. 

"After I am dead..." you hesitated before voicing your innermost thoughts, "...who will be by your side?"

If possible, Sebastian's porcelain face appeared to lose some color, and his eyes widened. The expression of shock and bewilderment were so uncharacteristic on him that you thought you wouldn't have recognized him while he wore that face. 

"[Name]," his voice seemed almost strained. "You cannot possibly - " 

"After I'm gone..." you cut him off, wanting to get your message through to him, "who will understand you?" 

He lowered his head, and you weren't sure what his reaction was going to be. Of course, the initial one was understandable - surprise. He probably had not been expecting you to harbor such selfless affection for him, to the point of worrying about his loneliness. Locks of silken black hair obscured his face and eyes from your sight, but you weren't anxious or afraid to see what he thought of your sentimentality. You were expecting him to scoff. 

Regardless, in an unfamiliarly tender way - both for you and him - you placed a hand on his cheek and lifted his gaze so you could look him in the eyes. While humans might have been appalled at the idea of such contact - they had very specific standards for laying hands on others - it meant almost nothing to demons and witches. Intimate physical touches were not unusual between two acquaintances, two enemies, even. It was simply...there and was not considered something to so much as arch an eyebrow about. 

His face, to your shock, was melancholy. It was not the expression one would wear if a dear friend or lover was dying, because to Sebastian, you knew you were far less than either of the two. But the hollowness that echoed in him spoke volumes. 

Sebastian had cared for you more than he had let on, more than you had believed. 

Knowing that gave you the courage to utter what you had thought would go unsaid. You could feel the final vestiges of your life force seeping from your body, trickling away from you like water down a steep decline. Your body was losing its strength, but you managed to keep your hand on Sebastian's cheek, though the effort strained you. 

Before darkness took you, you wanted to let him know. 

"Sebastian," you murmured, so quietly that it was only thanks to his acute hearing as a demon that your words were coherent to his ears, "I wanted to keep seeing the world...together with you." 

His empty countenance did not waver in the slightest. 

Something warm, clearly, and wet trickled down your fingers. Although your vision was slowly blurring, you focused on the liquid - water - that was slowly making its way down the skin of your hand, then your forearm. It leaked from the hellfire-red eyes of Sebastian Michaelis, the demon you'd known for over a century. 

The hand against his cheek fell, and you went lax. 

Your existence was swept into nothingness that day, but not before you saw his tears. 

As much as a demon could, Sebastian Michaelis mourned you.


End file.
